Tugnier's eyes shifted to Lydia. She didn't say a word, just gave him a nod before dragging the stone back.
And then.
"Ahhhhhh!"
The scream started low but ended in a sharp shriek as the rock gave way, revealing Grig sitting exactly where he'd been dumped underground earlier. His chest heaved, his eyes darted around.
Honestly... I felt bad for the guy.
That sympathy lasted all of one second.
Because Lydia slipped her fingers beneath her short skirt, and bam!
She was on him in the blink of an eye, a poison-tipped dagger pressed against his throat.
I blinked. Where the hell did she even pull that dagger from? Her skirt barely covered her thighs. Did she stash it horizontally? Because if it were vertical, there's no way it wouldn't peek out.
Grig trembled, eyes wide, pinned beneath her boot.
Not gonna lie... if she launched at me with that speed, I wouldn't dare look up at her skirt either. Self-preservation comes before curiosity.
Her voice was sharp enough to skin him alive.
"Look here, you oversized green tub. Your meat alone can feed our war beasts for a week. If you don't want me to test that theory, you better tell me how you got your filthy hands on a Dracolisk fang, and the names of the rats who helped you slip past our artifact security."
Grig quaked and nodded so fast he looked like he'd sprain his neck.
Lydia's eyes, once dripping with pure bloodlust, finally cooled. She withdrew the dagger and stepped back, fluid as a cat, giving him room.
The poor bastard dropped back onto his seat, panting before spilling the list of names. We listened carefully. Most were no surprise. Even Drane and Rack were in it.
The SBV's claws ran deep. Too deep.
Tugnier was clever, but he had one fatal flaw: he trusted too easily.
Quinn, strong as she was, treated her tribe like family, even the ones who clearly didn't deserve it.
Lydia, though… she was fast, both on her feet and in her head, but she preferred action in the field to the mess of administration. No wonder this rot slipped past them.
I sighed.
Tugnier's voice broke the silence. "It's safe to assume there's no information left that hasn't already leaked to SBV. Not when traitors exist even among our top ten."
Quinn pressed her forehead with both hands. "No way… why would they..?" she whispered, like her world was caving in.
But Lydia wasn't soft like Quinn. Her grip tightened on her dagger, eyes cold.
"I'm arresting everyone on the list," she declared.
Tugnier nodded. "You might not find them all in the valley. Some probably bolted the moment we caught Grig. Hunt the ones still here. Send covert teams after the rest."
Lydia gave a single sharp nod.
"And be careful of Drane," Tugnier warned. "You're stronger, but we don't know what artifact he's hiding. A sudden strike could be fatal."
"I'll handle him," Lydia said, already vanishing like a shadow.
"Wait!" I blurted.
Three commander pairs of eyes snapped to me.
"I'll go with Lydia to deal with Drane."
Quinn tilted her head. "You sure? Your partner might prefer to take a break."
I turned to Sera, realizing I should've asked her first. She just smiled and nodded, her eyes warm. "My wounds are healed. Let's go."
Lydia flicked me a glance, faint amusement in her otherwise impassive face. "I can deal with them on my own."
"I know," I said, meeting her gaze. "But I have a favor to ask, Commander Lydia."
She raised a brow, silently prompting me.
"I want the Blood Raven Sword."
Her expression barely shifted, but the disbelief was clear. "Blood Raven?"
Even the Phantom of Shadowfen doesn't know where that thing is.
Good. That meant no one but me had a clue where it lay.
Tugnier stroked his beard. "I've heard of it. Isn't it just an F-rank artifact? Supposedly buried in some dungeon under the Sinclair Duchy? No one ever found it. Not that anyone cared, an F-rank sword hardly draws attention."
I nodded. "I know exactly where it is. But I'll need Lydia's strength to clear the dungeon."
Tugnier's eyes flicked to Lydia. She gave a casual shrug, as if to say she didn't mind.
"Very well," Tugnier said. "But be careful."
"Of course." I dipped my head, though I couldn't help the smirk tugging at my lips. The thought of reuniting with that blade, my old friend, set my blood humming.
We rose and bowed to Tugnier and Quinn.
In my last life I begged Tugnier to carry me to that sword. This time I didn't need begging. I had aura. I had Sera. And with Lydia at our side, the three of us probably had enough muscle to clear an S-rank dungeon ourselves. Felt good to think that for a heartbeat.
Lydia led the way toward the exit like she owned the corridor. When she moved, even the cave's light seemed to flatter her. Everyone's eyes followed her automatically.
The Orcs glanced at me and Sera awkwardly.. well, we were the only humans there.
Lydia isn't exactly an orc either but she'd been around them long enough that even the roughest warriors treated her like the question you didn't want to answer wrong.
As we neared the mouth of the cave, a cluster of female orcs appeared, as if summoned. Their clothes were the kind that shouted we only wear cloth because it's customary. Not much to them, practical and minimal.
They looked like a covert unit. Lydia didn't hesitate. Her voice slid out smooth and low, that somehow carried orders like a whip.
She called out names, precise and cold, and pointed them at targets to capture. They nodded once, ghosted away, and vanished as fast as they'd come.
[It's good you asked Lydia. With Merin on the horizon, Tugnier should stay in the cave; his presence will steady everyone.]
I gave a short, meaning nod. Yeah. Morale mattered.
Sera cocked her head at me, curious. "Seems like that F-rank sword has more to it than just F-rank," she said.
I let a little smirk slip. "Nope. It really is F-rank." Her face crumpled in confusion.
I leaned in, lowering my voice like I was about to reveal the secret recipe for stew. "It's F-rank if anyone other than me wields it."
Her confusion turned into that adorable, earnest look. I reached behind my back and brought Grave Digger into my hands, turning the blade over with a practiced wrist.
"Just like this sword," I said.
Sera's eyes went soft. "Like my father's keepsake?"
"No," I said. "Not just a keepsake. This is an S-rank sword."
She stared at the battered metal like I'd handed her an extra moon. "What!" she breathed. "It looks.."
"Just wait until you awaken aura," I said, already imagining the moment. "Only you can wield it. It's hereditary. It only responds to your late father's aura, or yours."
Her jaw dropped a little. "Can they really do that?" she asked, trembling with a mix of awe and possibility.
"C'mon, trust me," I said, casual. Tapping her on the shoulder.
She wobble-smiled and followed, cheeks still warm.
Lydia glanced back, skirt catching the air as she turned.
"I can sense aura from you," she said, voice flat but not unkind. "And strong frost mana from your partner." She laced those words like a diagnosis. "You two are strong. But Drane is unpredictable. Leave him to me."
She said it like a promise and a warning at once. I nodded, because who argues with a commander who can disappear and reappear in the blink of an eye.
We matched on plans. Drane and I were probably at similar strength: his aura near peak novice, mine base novice, but I had experience punching above my weight.
If I used Void Embrace, I could force the win against Drane... but then the Blood Raven would stay out of reach for at least a month. So I kept Void Embrace in my back pocket for now.
"I'll leave the rest of his team to you once we find them," she added.
Sera and I both nodded. Sera asserted, "Leave it to us." Her voice had steel in it, which was exactly what I needed.
Before Lydia slipped away she gave a small, almost invisible smile. "Don't worry too much. We have our people to support you." She sounded reassuring, but there was the faintest flicker of uncertainty behind it.
[Her duel record in the caves is 108 wins, 1 loss. The one loss was against Quinn after Lydia defeated seventy-two orcs in sequence to climb into third position. The remaining fifteen wins were all against Drane. He'd challenged her a dozen times, each time getting stronger, but she beat him every time.]
I whistled. 16-0. Impressive. That's Lydia. A walking paradox of lethal grace and practical cool.
Which made me wonder.. why the tiny uncertainity in her voice?
Nexar answered before I could speak.
[She must have observed something abnormal during her fifteenth win. Maybe it was a close call. Maybe Drane has improved more than anyone expected.]
I don't know... Last time I checked, Drane has novice aura, peak and Lydia has Intermediate. She would win low-diff if they faught.
[That means.. Drane had already been using artifacts in the duels against Lydia.. that explains how their matches could be close.]
I nodded, looking at Lydia issuing orders to her unit.
We talked tactics next. I told Sera to stick to me, carry mana potions in her pack, and keep our coordination tight. Sera nodded like a soldier. "Don't worry, I won't let you down," she said.
"Let me down?" I squawked. "You'll never let me down." I gave her the serious look that said I wasn't joking. Then I added the important part. "In a fight, your mind should be one thing: how to beat your opponent. Nothing else. Not rescue operations, not post-victory dances. Focus on doing everything you can to get closer to the end goal."
Her eyes hardened with resolve, and she squeezed my hand. "I will," she promised. "And you don't think about protecting me. I'll stay right behind you."
I nodded. Solid.
Then Lydia cut through the fluff. "If you lovebirds are done flirting, get on these bad boys." Her voice had that sultry edge again, the sort that made a man want to both obey and run away.
We turned to see the bad boys in question.
"No way..!"
Lined up before us were mounts, drooling and massive, each chained. Big furry monsters with slobber dripping, iron collars rattling.
They looked uncute from my perspective.. any sane one's perspective.
Sera's mount had silver fur, matching her hair like an cosplay.
Lydia vaulted onto hers in one fluid motion, her skirt swayed, revealing a flash of thigh that would have caused lesser men to lose their footing.
She made it look effortless. Up she went, like the whole beast was a chair.
I stared at mine. Black fur. Crimson eyes. The thing fixed me with a look that felt identical to the look you give to your dinner right before you decide whether it's worth chewing.
Sera squealed with delight and hopped on. "Cute," she chirped, patting her mount like it was a puppy she'd trained at birth.
I reached out to steady the chain for my mount and it lunged. The iron collar rattled, and my arm tensed as it snapped forward like a coiled spring.
If I'd been a beat slower, it would have taken my arm clean.
"Grrrhhhh..." The growl rolled through my bones and the saliva smell hit me full in the face. Friendly.
[He loves you so much!]
I can tell you he loves me as much he loves meat.
"Someone's struggling!" Sera teased from atop her mount, already settling into a graceful rhythm. Her silver hair caught the light and made the whole scene feel unfairly adorable.
I swallowed. No way was I mounting that thing.
"I am walking," I declared, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
Lydia glanced back, eyebrow raised, the corner of her mouth curling. "None can do," she said calmly. Then she swung forward, leaving no room for argument.
I thought about trying to coax the beast. I imagined bargaining, speaking sweet to it, offering it the last of my rations in exchange for cooperation.
But the beast looked at me like I'd offered it a wet sock.
"Grrrrhhhhhrrrr.." "Rawhh"
"Hell nah! I am walking."